In a Disused Graveyard
by Boggy
Summary: Mystery triggers Curiosity. Curiosity triggers intrigue. Intrigue triggers the unknown. By exploring the unknown, we find answers to unexplainable questions—answers we hope to never find, and answers that lead to understanding and compassion.


Author's Note: The following is an entry for a fanfiction contest at "The Legend of Pickles." Contest rules state that the titles of Robert Frost poems must be used somewhere within the text. I've taken this guideline a bit further and entitled my piece, "In a Disused Graveyard." If you're familiar with my previous "Inuyasha" stories, then you're familiar with my writing style and character choice—and yes, Sesshoumaru is the central/main character of this tale.

I feel the story is rather open-ended, forcing you to draw your own conclusions and assumptions. Seeing as how Sesshoumaru is one of the most unexplained/unelaborated characters within the series, I felt this format was best. I was afraid of placing too many restrictions on events not yet discussed, so I hope my "loose" ending is conclusive enough for my audience (i.e. you).

Thank you for taking time to read and review my story. Please mail me with any questions or concerns you may have.

  
Disclaimer: "Inuyasha" © Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV.

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In a Disused Graveyard  
By Boggy

The room remained unchanged, despite its neglect and years of disuse. The woven tapestries were rich with color and design, save a thin layer of dust that coated the otherwise brilliant fabric. An oak table was situated against the far wall, its surface decorated with jewelry and other accessories, undisturbed by the cruel passage of time. A sliding door on the adjacent wall led to an outside balcony, a wooden rail trailing the edges and wrapping around to the castle's rear.

Nothing had been touched. Nothing had been removed or replaced. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered—the position of her bed, the creases of her kimono, the folds of her blankets and silks.

The images flooded his mind, and he blinked to clear himself of their mental haze. It seemed so long ago, and yet, he remembered it all so vividly. Her profile was a portrait in his mind—a living, breathing portrait of beauty, elegance, and strength. And yet, her features were as hazed as his thoughts—difficult to see clearly, nearly impossible to discern the curves and contours of her face.

What he remembered most was her hands; her calm, folded hands resting gently at her sides or in her lap, never once fidgeting with the hem of her clothes despite the chaos and confusion of her life. She couldn't afford to fidget. She couldn't afford to blink. Small hesitations such as these were the only things separating the cautious from the dead. And back in those days, the slightest uncertainty was all one needed to conquer vast lands and overthrow powerful warlords.

Times were still hectic, but they lacked the ferocity that he remembered them for. He often wondered if it was he who had changed, and not the times. Perhaps he had grown so accustomed to the violence and unruliness that his actions were immediate, his disposition complacent, and his lifestyle desensitized. Either way, it mattered not. Things were as they were, and there was nothing to be done about it. Anyone who said otherwise was trying to sell you something.

He glanced around the room once more, soaking in the smell of the atmosphere and finding her scent saturated into every angle, corner, and crevasse. Even the shadows reeked of her presence, their forms waxing and waning with the rise and set of the sun. Only the room's threshold prevented her essence from drifting out and permeating the other rooms of the castle.

The moment he stepped across the sliding doors, he was released from her haunting image, and the hands that grasped desperately at his ankles—though it was sometimes unclear as to whose hands were grasping, and to whom the ankles belonged to. He found such thoughts unsettling, and pushed them out of his mind. It didn't do well to dwell on old ghosts and rotting memories.

Sesshoumaru closed the doors behind him, and continued his walk towards the front of the castle. He could hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from the gardens—a happy and childish laughter he'd grown accustomed to over the past few months. The sound echoed through the hollow walls, rejuvenating the tired castle stones for but an instant. It flashed through the foundation like lightning, and was gone as quickly as it had come.

The sound of laughter grew louder as he drew closer to the gardens. Jaken—his retainer—could be heard, spitting and spewing his feeble reprimand, adhering to the absurd assumption that the child paid even the slightest attention to his chiding. She found his ravings amusing, no doubt, using Jaken as just another means of entertainment amidst a very cruel and war-hardened world.

It was hard to tell if the child was tenacious, or just blissfully oblivious to the dangerous circumstances she'd stumbled upon. Without Sesshoumaru, her survival was unlikely—almost nonexistent. But Rin was a side of life Sesshoumaru rarely dwelled on, deciding it was better to exist than to question why something exists, and then later regret wondering why it existed in the first place. Some things simply "were," and Sesshoumaru accepted that.

Sesshoumaru stepped through a set of doors at the eastern gates, entering the gardens undetected by his ward and retainer. It was more appropriately dubbed the "Water Gardens," since over half the area was flooded by shallow pools that ran from the eastern half of the gardens to the west. Tall grasses grew at the water's edge, creating the perfect nesting ground for fireflies and other such beetled insects. Lily pads floated along its surface, swaying in rhythm with the tender evening breeze. It was a spectacular sight on summer nights—the crescent moon shining bright, and its beams reflected softly in the water's ripples.

Rin discovered the gardens a few weeks back, after Sesshoumaru first brought her to live at the castle. She fell in love with its tranquility and, weather permitting, spent most afternoons and evenings watching the stars sparkle against the surface of the stepping stones. Because she loved the gardens so dearly, Sesshoumaru granted her full access to the eastern wing of the castle. It held nothing of real importance anyhow, and it kept the child calm and out of his hair.

He stood quietly in the doorway, watching as Rin patted his mount on the nose with one hand while feeding it grass clippings out the other. The sight of it was completely absurd, although simultaneously—not to mention ironically—fitting. It was one of the strangest arrangements he'd ever seen, but Sesshoumaru knew there were no limits to the strangeness one could find in the Sengoku Jidai. Besides, liveliness was important to a demon with centuries left to live.

Within moments, Rin lost interest in feeding the mount and began playing with small insects in the grass. She picked one up with her index finger, watching its wings flip against the sides of her fingernail. Her curiosity in the simplest, most useless of creatures was amusing—a curiosity he assumed was the result of young age and innocence. Though a part of him believed otherwise—it was a behavior neither time nor age could ever change.

"Why do you insist on touching those disgusting things?"

Rin giggled and stroked the leggy insect. "It's not disgusting, Jaken-sama; it's misunderstood."

"Well, I don't understand what's so interesting about a worthless bug."

She ignored the toad's negative comments, choosing instead to marvel at the cicada prickling her skin.

"And don't fool around in the water." Jaken emphasized his words with a tap of the Nintoujou against his palm. "You've just had a bath, and I won't be responsible for giving you another!"

"But Jaken-sama, you didn't give me the first one."

Jaken grumbled a reply, his voice audible only to Sesshoumaru's keen ears.

Since coming to live at the castle, Rin had been placed under the care of the Watcher, the most trusted of Sesshoumaru's subjects. In truth, the Watcher was not a subject at all, but a caretaker of sorts from his childhood. He had never known her real name; he wasn't certain she had one. But the idea of labeling her with something as frivolous as a name seemed silly. She had never given a name, and he'd never asked for one.

Communication between them was limited. Sesshoumaru saw no reason to speak unnecessarily, and the Watcher seemed unperturbed by that philosophy. She was centuries older than himself—old enough, quite possibly, to be his mother, aunt, etc. She would, on occasion, treat him in a motherly fashion, doting on some insignificant thing he couldn't care less about. But for whatever reason, he humored her curious antics, never bothering to question why.

Intrigue surrounded the Watcher, her "true" form a mystery even to Sesshoumaru. And although he had never seen her in actual combat, he felt confident in her ability to look after things during his travels. He had no choice, really, as Rin, Jaken, and the Watcher were the only other residents of the spacious compound he called "home."

Rin didn't seem to mind the arrangements. In fact, she was thrilled at having a "babysitter" other than Jaken. She had run towards the woman, flamboyant as ever, introducing herself with zeal and rocking rhythmically on her heels. The Watcher had been hesitant towards Rin at first, unsure of how to approach a human child. She may have initially thought the idea a joke, though she realized after a few days that wasn't the case. Anymore, Rin was simply part of the daily routine, something that was widely accepted without question or concern.

Their interaction reminded him of things from his own youth—times spent sitting quietly in her study as she sewed sleeves out of brightly colored material, or mended rips and tears from battles against trespassing youkai. Even now, Sesshoumaru occasionally found himself sitting silently nearby, as she tended to some trivial task—tasks like bathing Rin or folding sheets. Chores like that had always meant something, a type of patience and discipline you couldn't find in slaughtering bandits or plundering human villages. They were affairs that required skill, and although Sesshoumaru would never stoop to doing such things himself, he found their purpose meaningful and worthy of respect—in minimal amounts, at least.

He caught the silhouette of the Watcher with the corner of his eye, her figure moving slow and steady against the castle walls. She was making her nightly rounds, double-checking the terrace for unwanted visitors. Her movements were eerie and unnatural, and he briefly wondered what lied hidden beneath her reddened eyes and pale complexion.

A mask—her face reminded him of a mask.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned his attention back to Jaken and Rin. Jaken had ceased his lecturing, and Rin had placed the cicada back in the grasses of the gardens, its powerful legs launching its body towards a lily pad. Rin yawned heavily, signaling the day's end.

"Rin."

The child's head jerked towards him, her voice belying the sleepiness in her eyes.

"Sesshoumaru-sama!"

"Rin. It's time for bed." It still seemed like an odd thing to say. "Jaken. Do something useful."

"Ah! Yes, milord!" With that, Jaken rushed into the castle as fast as his webbed feet would carry him.

Rin took off ahead with Sesshoumaru bringing up the rear. With Rin and Jaken inside the castle, the gardens were still and ghostly. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the castle walls for a hint of the Watcher's silhouette. But the Watcher was gone, leaving only the edges of her shadow behind.

---

The halls were quiet. Jaken had disappeared, swallowed by echoes bouncing between the castle stones. The Watcher was lost as well, her silhouette hidden within the shadows racing against the walls. Only the glow of golden eyes could be seen amidst the darkness; his form floated forward at a steady pace, his acceleration constant and his body firm.

It would be his second visit in one day.

In the past, he'd gone weeks without visiting her room, weeks without even thinking of it. But lately, traces of the room's belongings would resurface in his mind, consuming his thoughts and dulling his senses. It was rather irritating. And he wasn't sure how to make it stop.

Ahead of him, a tiny glow illuminated the distance. It hung low to the ground, its circular hue obviously the workings of a candle or overhead torch. Sesshoumaru moved in closer, the smell of burning wax strong against the edges of his nose. The flickering flames created a halo around the candle's structure, the contours of a hand seen clenched around the candle's frame.

"Rin."

The child's head shot up, startled by her lord's sudden appearance.

"Sesshoumaru-sama."

"You should be asleep."

The child turned her attention elsewhere, seemingly unaware that he'd given her a direct command.

"What's this room for, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

Rin had traversed nearly every room in the entire castle. Sesshoumaru had nothing to hide, and there was nothing of any real value—nothing of value to Sesshoumaru—in any of them. They were simply rooms filled with fineries meant to boost egos of the rich and royal, while simultaneously holding little to no meaning whatsoever. Most artifacts within the castle had belonged to his father. Whether or not his father had cared for any of it was as good as anyone's guess, but he kept things the way they had always been, if for no other reason than to keep some semblance of his father's memory alive.

The wealth of the castle had left Rin in awe, familiar only with her humble, peasant-like beginnings. But her awe was more out of curiosity than it was actual desire, for she paid little attention to the expensive décor after the initial tour. There had been no rhyme or reason for it. She simply stopped caring one day. Now, weeks later, she suddenly showed interest in the castle dormitories, rekindling the curiosity she'd so abruptly lost. She had somehow overlooked this room, and was determined not to make the same mistake twice.

"What's so fascinating about a room?"

Why was it fascinating?

"Sesshoumaru-sama goes inside sometimes. Rin thinks there's something special behind the door."

There was a long pause. He wasn't sure how to respond. It didn't matter, regardless of his response, because the matter was settled and done with. It was a thing of the past—a thing lost to history. It was something you vaguely remembered once you reached a certain age, something only old fools worried about. Time was the best instructor a man could have, teaching you that all events in life are eventually forgotten, pushed into the recesses of one's mind and never dug up again.

And yet, there he stood—his ward sitting expectantly beneath him, and himself face to face with skeletons once buried in a disused graveyard. Why give so much thought to something that didn't matter?

It didn't matter. It didn't bother him. Who the fuck cared anyway? Not him.

"This was my mother's room."

There was another long pause, only this time, Sesshoumaru's mind was quiet. There wasn't anything left to think about. There had been nothing to think about to begin with. It was a simple question. He'd given a simple answer. End of story.

"Sometimes…" Her voice faded a little. "Sometimes I think about my mother, too."

A pause.

Sesshoumaru remained silent. What did she mean by "too?"

"It comes so suddenly, without my realizing it. Sometimes I wish I couldn't remember, but your heart always knows, even if your head won't admit it."

Rin crouched lower to the flame. Some unknown emotion raised the hairs of his neck as he watched.

"I don't have anything of my mother's—except memories." She blinked once before continuing. "Rin has her memories. Sesshoumaru-sama has his room."

Her comment was followed by silence. It wasn't a bored silence or an awkward silence, just silence. It was so silent that Sesshoumaru failed to notice the Watcher standing behind him; in her hand, the edges of a blanket dragged the ground.

"Sesshoumaru-dono."

He blinked once and turned around.

"Ah… Shame on you. It's way past Rin's bedtime." She bobbed the quilt up and down, signaling the child's return to bed. "Yours too, Sesshoumaru-dono."

Rin pulled herself off the ground and ran towards the Watcher. The Watcher tackled Rin with the blanket, enveloping her small frame in the hand sewn cloth. She bowed to Sesshoumaru, a small smile planted on her mask-like face. Rin said her goodnights, just close enough to tug at the edge of Sesshoumaru's sleeve. He watched as the candlelight grew dim, Rin and the Watcher almost completely out of sight.

His evening complete, Sesshoumaru started towards his room in the western wing, becoming one with the shadows of the night.


End file.
